


As The Flames Die Out

by setsurislight



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setsurislight/pseuds/setsurislight
Summary: This takes place after the end of season one and before the movie Missing Kings. This also contains major spoilers for the first season of [K]. Izumo tries to grapple with the death of his two best friends in such a short time while the Red Clan is disbanded. To try to clear his head, he goes out for a walk in the middle of the night and bumps into Seri. Worried for him after their brief meeting, she follows him and they talk about how Izumo thinks Tatara and Mikoto should be remembered. Izumo starts to work through some of his feelings.
Relationships: Awashima Seri/Kusanagi Izumo
Kudos: 6





	As The Flames Die Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is an oldie, but I'm going back and re-editing some of my work to post up here. stan serizumo

It felt like Izumo hadn't gotten out in weeks, though that wasn't exactly true. After Mikoto's funeral he had just found it difficult to do much of anything-- keep the bar open consistently, keep track of days and time, and for once in his life he felt a strange wave of confusion pass over him as he realized that his usual social comfort was dwindling. Sometimes he felt that he could hardly keep a conversation going anymore without drifting off in mid-thought, though he tried hard to make it seem like nothing had changed in him. Others knew it was far from the truth, and he knew that others noticed as well. However, he was willing to continue to put himself in denial for as long as it took.

It was sometime in late January when Kusanagi emerged from the doors of the bar. He had it closed all day just because he couldn't find the will to tend to it with the way he was feeling, which was becoming all too common of a situation. There was always this begging emptiness that he felt poking and prodding at the back of his subconscious. It was a message that he wouldn't allow himself to answer--perhaps he was just afraid to.

This night, he was feeling especially cloudy, and so he decided to take a break from mindlessly staring at the walls in his own home. The television was on in the background to offer some sort of white noise that he had become used to. He didn't have much interest in paying attention to what the program was saying. He turned off the television and put on his coat and scarf. It took him awhile to even do that. He patted the pockets to check to see if there was anything missing that he couldn't leave without, like his phone, wallet, or anything else that might have been useful. Finding that he had taken everything out of the jacket beforehand, he shrugged it off and decided that there was no need for anything if he was just going for a walk.

He didn't even bother to go look for the signature sunglasses that he wore every day, though he knew that they were right on the living room table. What's the point? It was just a walk.

The only thing he did end up reluctantly taking were a box of cigarettes, a lighter and his keys, which he unconsciously started jingling in his pocket after turning off the lights and locking the door. It wasn't too late. For him who usually stayed up past three or four every morning to begin with, it was actually rather early in the night. The city was lit up by street lamps and blinking neon signs, most of which burned his eyes a little too brightly as he passed the 24-hour shops that lined the busier commercial parts of Shizume. It was hard to imagine that a place could start to look so foreign and unwelcoming after just a few weeks. 

Eventually he just decided to take side streets as he wandered around the city aimlessly, finding it too hard to concentrate on where to move on the sidewalk as people passed him. He had probably bumped into about six people's shoulders, though he hadn't been keeping track after the first guy accused him of being a drunk.

Walking in and out of darkness and light between the street lamps, Izumo decided to stop and sit at a bench somewhere in between. The bench was overlooking one of Shizume's many rivers that flowed through the city. It was uncomfortably close to the fenced railing that separated the sidewalk from a tall ledge on account of the rusted net was falling apart. "Damned thing’s in shambles." Izumo muttered to himself, taking a cigarette out from the box in his pocket and putting it in his mouth. He lit the cigarette and extended his leg to raise the metal fencing. The netting gave rise to a screechy creak, but when he brought his foot back, the thing proved that no amount of prodding would keep it standing straight. He slumped down on the bench and heard a clang of metal that he dismissed to be the rickety fence settling in the wind.

He was out there for maybe twenty minutes or so-- he really didn't know since there was no way for him to keep track of time. The bite of the air seemed to bring him back to reality temporarily, but much like in the comforts of his own home, all he had to do out here was think. He couldn’t escape it. That was the very thing that he wanted so desperately to avoid. That's all he'd been doing for weeks. He was tired of thinking. In the beginning a few powerful hangovers reminded him of how much of a bad idea drinking was to distract him. So then, where did he have to run to? Well now, that was the right question. He was just god damn tired of it all, and as it turned out no matter what you did your thoughts are pretty much the only things you can't run from. It's not like you could take out your brain for a few hours and put it back in when you were feeling up to it.

Other means of escaping from troubles had too high of a price, and even in times like this Izumo wasn't about to give up what moral judgements he had just for temporary relief. Everyone had their downfall, and it seemed like his was just to grin and bear it; though it had been awhile since he could say he was actually grinning about much of anything. He’d experienced grief before—all of Homra had, after all that is what brought the gang together—but he had never experienced it like this before. In the course of a few weeks he had lost everything. Or, at least, close to everything. He still had Anna. That beautiful child that carried on Mikoto’s spirit, and the fire in his heart.

Bringing his red scarf up to the bridge of his nose and shoved his hands into his coat pockets, mumbling something incoherent even to himself. When a distant and familiar feminine voice caught his attention, he brought himself to sit back up on the bench and slowly turned his head in the direction he had come from under a half an hour earlier. It was Seri, and what a strange coincidence it was that they would meet here, at night, of all times and places. Though for once, Izumo couldn't help but feel like out of everyone he could have run into, she was the person he least wanted to see. No, he didn't want to see that scowl he knew so well, or the casual clothes that reminded him that she was still a real person, a beautiful one at that, and at the end of the day not a calibrated piece of machinery, or the bright blue eyes that were always drawn in another direction. Anything but those eyes. He didn’t want to be reminded of how alive he felt talking to her one on one at the bar, the barriers between the Blue and Red clans breaking down. He didn’t want to think of Scepter 4, or the choice that ultimately led to Mikoto—

No.

She got closer and a tap-tap-tap of her heels could be heard quickening their pace as she tried to confirm that it really was him sitting on the bench. Izumo had to look away. He pulled down his scarf again and stood up, but it was already too late. Seri was within three yards of him, and all he could do was give her a fake smile and an even faker greeting. She asked why he was out there, as expected, and he replied that he was just looking for something he had lost, which one could infer that wasn't exactly a lie. The problem was, the thing that he had lost wasn’t exactly tangible. He couldn’t whistle and call out to it. The thing he lost haunted him like a darkness in the back of his skull at all hours of the day.

"So, Izumo did you find what you were looking for?"

"No. No, I'm afraid I didn't."

"Do you need help?"

"Perhaps I do."

"And what is with that kind of ambiguous answer?"

"Nothing to bother yourself with, Miss Awashima."

Seri gripped the pocketbook that was slung over her shoulder tighter as she watched him walk by her in the opposite direction of her destination. Normally he would be more excited to see her and strike up a long conversation to keep her preoccupied, and keep her from leaving too soon. She wasn't looking for that tonight since this was a chance encounter, but then again, she normally didn't mind it, either. 'This isn't the bar,' she reminded herself, somewhat bewildered at his unusual hurry to go elsewhere. But then again, he always acted that way, business or not. Tonight, Izumo just seemed so distant, as if he were a walking specter. She would have been lying if she said she didn't worry about him, but she just let him walk past without another word.

There was no "madamoiselle", no terrible pick up line or joke about her 'ice-cold heart' made. He barely even kept eye contact. Kusanagi walked far enough down the street that in her perspective, he appeared no bigger than just another stick figure on a child's drawing. Seri lightly bit her bottom lip and stopped wincing, ultimately deciding to turn around and continue her walk home.

Before doing so, she thought she would at least check around the bench to see what he was looking for. Nothing there looked out of the ordinary. The area was pretty beat up and trashy. She noted that the bench's wood had chipped paint and siding everywhere, and the railing Izumo had been staring out at was definitely a safety hazard. She made note of that to put in a maintenance request the next morning. The ground below the bench was covered in empty paper soda cups from various fast-food chains, and crumpled up napkins. Clearly no one around here knew how to use a trash can. There was a small glint of silver under the bench that caught her eye, though.

Seri crouched down to get a closer look, and it turned out what she noticed was a small set of keys-- and ones that she recognized to be Izumo's. One of the ornaments was a custom leather charm with the Homra insignia etched into it. To begin with, it's not as if these things had been hidden at all, it actually seemed as if they had just fell out of his pocket, and there was no way that if he was in his right mind, he couldn't have found them. Then again, it didn't seem like he was leaving her some sort of trail either. Could it be that he wasn't really looking for these to begin with? He did seem out of it. She doubted that he had noticed, and it pained her to see him that way. He was always so observant.

Whatever was going on, Izumo was in a zombie-like state walking in the direction of his house without his keys. Maybe he had a spare set somewhere, but then again... it was probably a good idea to just return these to him as soon as possible. It wasn't as if this ruined Seri's plans for the night. All she had planned was to go home, sleep and prepare for the next day at Scepter 4. The main problem with going to catch up with Izumo was that his house was in the complete opposite direction as hers, so it was definitely out of the way. Seri furrowed her eyebrows and let out a slightly agitated groan, snatching the set of keys and bringing herself to stand again.

Even in the dark Seri could remember the directions to how to get there, though it had been a while since she had been around that area of Shizume City. She abandoned her track of going home and walked back in the direction the blonde man had gone. By the time that she had gotten to his apartment, she saw Izumo with his head in a cupped hand, leaning against the siding of his house, halfway up the stairs. He shivered in the frosty night air, puffs of smoke dissipating in the breeze. He wore a blank face and tapped his box of cigarettes against the wooden steps.

"You seriously don't have another set of keys around here?" Seri piped up.

Izumo made a feeble attempt at faking his normal cheerful demeanor and leaned his elbows back onto the top step of the stairs. Apparently, he didn't notice that he was missing his keys until he got here.

"Makes it harder to break in, madamoiselle,"

"Yourself included, it seems." she took the keys from out of her pocketbook and dangled them in front of her. Izumo quickly shot his hand out to swipe the keys when she walked close enough, but she moved her hand away in time and kept them to herself. Izumo pouted and returned to holding his head lazily in his hand. 

"When do ya' plan on giving those back to me, Seri? Can't stay out here all night you know."

"Push over please," she said quietly. When he obeyed, she sat down next to him and continued speaking. "Maybe I'll give them back if you tell me why you're in such a daze."

He remained silent for a minute and watched the street as a few cars passed by. Finally deciding to ignore the statement he said, "Well if you don't intend to give 'em back, you could take me home yourself tonight. I'll be quiet y'know, like a puppy. I don't fuss much and I'm easy to take care of. All I need is some kibble and a corner to sleep in--ow!"

Seri punched him in the arm and scowled, which surprisingly made him smile in return, like a real, genuine smile. "Stop kidding around."

Izumo sighed.

"I'll tell ya' what. Let's make a deal. You open the door to the house and I'll make some coffee and spill my guts while in the comfort of your lovely presence, and when you're satisfied with the answer you can reward me by givin' the keys back."

"How do I know you're not going to pull something to get the keys back without telling me?"

"'Cuz the only way I'd be able to do that is if I 1) left you out here in the cold, or 2) took the keys by brute force by attackin' ya. Either way, I'd be a damn terrible guy. Seems like ya’ still have a bad opinion of me, Seri-chan!"

"That's... not what I meant."

"Well, whaddaya say? Beats bein' out here in the cold."

"Fine," she said reluctantly.  
\--  
When they got into the kitchen, Izumo took Seri's coat and hung it on a hook in the next room over, doing the same with his own, but ultimately deciding to keep his scarf on since he was still cold. It wouldn't take very long before the house would warm them up, thankfully. It was freezing out, and his hands had all but turned into ice cubes while he was on the front steps. He rubbed his hands together, blew on them, and lazily took off his shoes on a mat he left under the coat hangers. The walk had more or less cleared up his mind for the time being, but he felt himself slipping again now that he was inside.

Entering the kitchen again, he went over and opened a cabinet just above a single-cup coffee brewer that contained coffee mugs. He pulled two out, along with sugar and creme. He put those two items on the kitchen table where an expectant Lieutenant remained silent, but was clearly watching him closely. It didn't take too long for the machine to heat up and spit out two cups of what Izumo thought at the time must have been some heaven-sent caffeinated bliss. When he took the mugs back to the table, they both made their coffee the way they liked it with no words exchanged.

Seri was on her full guard, as usual, but now patient. She knew when to prod the subject, and she knew when to step back. That was one of the things he loved most about her, but there were too many things to even begin to list them off. He couldn't blame her for being worried, or curious, or just wanting to know what was going on. After all, even Kusanagi himself knew that he was acting like a dead man walking. He knew that her concern probably only stemmed from the fact that they were unlikely friends. He’d been rejected by her more times than he could count. If it was sympathy or pity she wanted to give him, he didn't need it. He knew her better than that though, and that wouldn't ever be her intention. Whether he felt better or worse after talking to her about this was all on him, not her.

"Seri, you look so serious."

"And not to be rude, but you look like death warmed up--bags under your eyes, irritated blood vessels around the iris, loss of focus, slow movements; I'd be surprised if you said you've slept soundly for weeks."

"My dear Watson have you been rereading your Holmes collection or are you about to get your doctor's license?"

"Izumo."

"You're right, you're right. I have to keep my end of the bargain up."

"And so you're going to tell me what's going on." she took a big sip of coffee.

"Better yet, I'll even show you."

"Show me?"

Izumo nodded and got up to walk over to the refrigerator. He wasn't one who overcrowded his refrigerator with much like silly tourist magnets or business cards that he would never look twice at ever again. There were actually only two things there, both sentimental, hanging from two very plain, yet very strong block magnets. One was a picture that Anna drew when she had first been accepted into Homra, and the other was easily identified as the cause of his grief. He took the small photo off of the refrigerator and set it down in front of Seri, sitting back down in his own spot.

"Yes, it's a photograph. I can't imagine what you thought it'd be."

Well, she didn't really know what to expect, either. Though of course everything made sense when he put the photo down on the table. She had figured that to be the cause to begin with-- it was strikingly obvious when you thought about it. It wasn't shocking, but it did make Seri consider that all was not as well as it seemed on the surface as she had once thought. Usually it seemed like he was on this high cloud that you couldn't reach up to. It was hard picturing him as anything but happy. He always seemed to play it off so well. That nonchalant attitude that always eased your worries. It was why his clan respected him so much. It seemed like her friend had been in a steady decline for a while, and she couldn't even see it. He probably didn't want her to. He had probably been avoiding her.

The picture was recognizably a few years old, and in it were only three boys. One being a teenage Izumo, and the other two being younger versions of who could only be Suoh and Totsuka. 

Seri didn't really know what to say after that. It was something so simple, and yet nothing she could really help with. Well, what was she supposed to say? The pain would dim over time? Surely, he'd heard that a million times over already. All she could wish was that it wouldn't consume him like it seemed to be already. Death hurts. It doesn't always hurt the person dying; Sometimes it does, but it will always hurt the people it leaves behind. She didn't notice it, but after a couple of minutes a smile seemed to have crept on her face as she stared into the photo. Then was hardly the time or place to be smiling like that, but somehow, Izumo's expression matched hers in the silence across the table.

"You know when you're a kid, and y'always think 'Hey, right here and now, I'm invincible, like there ain't nothing that's gonna hurt me or kill me' so you just go off and do a lot of stupid crap you know you're going to get in trouble for later, but it doesn't bother you. In the heat of the moment you're just like 'Yeah, well life isn't just gonna make itself fun, nothin' could kill me anyway'."

Seri nodded. She didn't really experience that feeling often, having been cautious and reserved like she was now for years, but she'd heard a lot of people describe their younger years like that. Some people she knew were still living like that. She was always too practical for that, but she had friends that experienced their lives in a similar way.

"That's always what the three of us felt like. Somehow, we all thought that we could go climb mountains, fall off the top and somehow be saved by a flock of angels swoopin' down on us and carryin' us to safety, singin' 'No boys, it's not your time, live! Live!'"

"You sure have an interesting way of explaining things."

"I told you once before that you always bring out the storyteller in me. Anyway, sayin' stuff like Tatara used to, 'It'll all work out in the end, Don't sweat it', somewhere along the line I figured out that sometimes it's not like that. Sometimes the end of your path turns out to be a dead end surrounded by one of those carnival Hall of Mirrors. Doesn't mean that it's the only path you were walkin' down, but no one knows when they're gonna die. When you die, all of your paths end."

"But we can't just be afraid of everything because we're aware that someday we will die."

"I'm not afraid of dyin', well, I mean I'm not really thinking about it. I'm not avoidin' going outside because I think a car is gonna run me over when I step out of my house or that a tsunami big enough to sink Noah's Arc is going to wash me away. It's just..."

"Unfair."

Izumo stared into his cup and swished the coffee around. "Yeah."

"Mmm."

“When ya’ lose someone, a whole bunch of people come out of the woodwork to tell ya’ how sorry they are. People ya’ know that didn’t really care when they were around. Makes me sick. Us Homra boys did a lot of livin’, and we’d hate to be known just for dyin’. I like that about you, Seri-chan. You’re not here to tell me some fake crap about how he was such a great person who did no wrong—showin’ how little ya actually knew about ‘im.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. You tell their story like no other can.”

"They could have grown up and had families for all I know. Little, tiny Mikoto tiger cubs running around biting people's kneecaps and a little Tatara girl running around with a pink bow in her hair and a giant video camera in her arms."

Seri laughed harder than she expected to at that, and right when she was about to apologize, then he joined in too. She covered her mouth and tried to hold it in, but he just kept on laughing. He was almost crouched over. That lasted for a good two minutes straight, until he finally decided to take a breath. Two single tears streamed down the man's reddened face, but that was just from laughing. He wiped his face and heaved a sigh, which relieved the woman on the other side of the table.

"Well, you deserve your keys back." Seri said, pushing them onto the table, and before she could let go of them, Izumo's hand landed on the top of hers, snuck under it and found his keys, twirling them around the circular chain when he brought them closer to him and put them in his pocket.

"Thank you kindly, gorgeous. I'll call you a cab."

"No, I think I'll wait until I finish my coffee that you expertly grinded, packaged, and painstakingly brewed yourself. It must be gourmet."

"Oh, love that sarcasm. I just bought it at the convenience store, but your wish is my command."

Seri just rolled her eyes and continued asking questions about the trio's high school days, which Izumo spoke of animatedly. He was in a much better mood than he had started that day. If asked, he probably would have admitted like he felt like he was normal again. It was only a question of how long that would last. About a half an hour passed, and then he called the taxi company. Izumo opened the curtain around ten minutes after making the call, and the taxi driver was just pulling up in front of the house. He smiled and before telling Seri that her ride was there, he quickly went into his room to get some money for the cab fare. Then he stood in front of the door, holding out some money while she gathered her bearings.

"I really don't need your money, it's alright."

"It's really adorable that you think I'm taking no for an answer."

"But--"

"Take it."

"No, it's fine, please just let me by."

"T- T- T- Taaaaake," he started.

"Step away from the door, Izumo."

"Taaaaaaaaake. Iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit."

"Alright already!" she frowned, taking the money out of his hand.

"You know the offer to take me home is still on the table, too."

"Goodnight, Izumo." she said, turning him and pushing him away from the door as he began a fit of hysterical laughter. 

Maybe he had found what he was looking for after all.


End file.
